Giving up the Ghost
by Evie McPhey
Summary: Death has always been patient. He has always waited for the right time to take a life. But halfas have always evaded him, and now he's mad. When the new enemy rises from the shadows unannounced, Danny must rely on old enemies and new allies to survive. And that might mean defying everything he once thought he knew. RATED T FOR BLOOD AND POSSIBLE SWEARING.
1. Chapter 1

**Sup? This is a continuation of the Danny Phantom series, so technically my interpretation of a fourth season. PP never happened, and that's not just because I didn't watch it.**

 **Chapter 1 will be a sort of pilot, and if this gets a positive response, then I'll consider continuing it. Heads up, this will have OCs in it for the purpose of the plot, but they won't be a part of any ships.**

 **Criticism is greatly appreciated!**

 _NAME: Daniel James Fenton  
ALIAS: Danny Phantom  
RESIDENCE: Amity Park, United States of America  
SPECIES: Halfa  
CAUSE OF DEATH: Electrocution  
CORE TYPE: Ice_

Vlad couldn't say there was nothing about his job he didn't like. He had plenty of issues with it, such as the continuous letters of protest on the constant littering in the park or even the amount of teens occupying said park late at night.

"They're too loud," some complaints would say. Well, yes. They're teens. It's what they do. There's not much one can do when faced with the issue of unruly teens in a public place. It's not like they'll listen to their parents, so why would they listen to him?

 _Teens._

Vlad sighs as he slumps into the comfort of his pristine leather chair. Oh, how he missed Wisconsin. Quiet, comfortable Wisconsin. In Wisconsin, he wasn't expected to clean up someone else's mess. Heck, most of the time, that mess was his and dear Daniel's.

Speaking of the boy, half of these letters are made up of complaints on his ghostly antics. "Couldn't he battle his ghosts at a less ungodly hour?" You try being a halfa tasked with protecting ungrateful humans. See, this is why Vlad chose the villainous route.

With an annoyed grunt, Vlad rakes a hand through his greying hairs that he can absolutely blame Daniel for. Just the thought of the insolent child took off two years of his life expectancy.

Vlad blearily glances at the clock mounted on the wall as it alerts him of the time, screaming at him to get some rest.

 _01:00am_

Vlad rubs at the bags under his eyes, as if that would be enough to wipe them away. He supposes he could always return to his work in the morning. It would do no good making important decisions while tired.

With a tired groan, Vlad lifts himself from the comfort of his chair and reaches blindly for the door as vertigo strikes him.

"Come along, Maddie," Vlad calls to the grumpy cat currently resting on the windowsill, half awake. "It would do no good for you to sleep by the window." Maddie drearily lifts her head, gives a long yawn, and hops off the height to follow after her owner.

Vlad smiles at the delightfully fluffy creature as it leads the way through the black to bed. There was certainly something endearing about the cat. Perhaps it was how, when she was tired, she'd remind him of a drunk man finding his way home.

It was like she was walking through a minefield.

"That's it. Up the stairs, dear." Vlad gives her a gentle shove up one stair. He jumps away as she hisses back at him and aims a strike at his arm with her clawed paw. Geez, he was only trying to help.

Vlad felt rather than heard what happened next. It started with the dull ringing in his ears, followed by an increase in temperature.

Tugging on the collar of his button-up cotton shirt, Vlad peers around suspiciously for any ghostly activity. It's not until a loud crash from his lab does he react.

Maddie jumps about three feet into the air and lands two steps away.

"You go to bed, Maddie. I'll handle this."

Maddie doesn't hesitate as she darts up the steps. Vlad watches her go briefly before allowing two white rings to reform his appearance. His grey hairs return to the youthful black he once wore with pride. His skin went from a healthy tan to a deathly blue. Not to mention the outfit.

With one last harrumph and a murmur of 'Skulker' beneath his breath, Vlad sinks through the steps and into the lab.

X X X

A skeletal figure with bright red hair huffs as he recklessly swings his chain into a couple of test tubes, shattering them upon contact.

"So this is the halfa's lab? Kinda disappointing. Not sure what I was expecting, really."

A figure cloaked in shadows sticks his head out of the ghost portal to shush the shorter. "Kid." He hushes, his husky voice delivering an unspoken warning, silencing the unruly teenager and he ceases his swinging.

"What? Not like he's gonna live long enough to need this stuff anymore," the skeletal child glances at the mess with a scowl. Just for good measure, he aims a kick to the leg of a nearby table. "Can't I wreak a little havoc?"

"We're here to finish the job, kid. No traces."

The kid huffs with a roll of his glowing eyes. "No witnesses. You never let me have any fun."

"The job's not fun. You knew that when I took you in."

The kid grins wickedly, flashing off his sharp canines. He doesn't have a chance to speak, though, as Vlad's arrival soon cuts him off.

"Skulker, do you have any idea how late it is?" Vlad begins to rant. Seriously, does the hunter have any respect? Or did he lose it all when he died?

Vlad soon cuts himself off from the rest of his complaint when he notices the two occupants of his basement lab. "Hang on a second. Who are you and how did you get in here?" His hands begin to glow pink with undead energy.

The kid turns with a wide grin and a mock salute. "Sup?"

The two were a sight for sore eyes, that was certain. The shorter obviously died with little to no fashion sense, and not too long ago. A black hoodie and skinny jeans were far from fashionable. His windswept hair perfectly framed his face and yet his crimson eyes gave off an aura of mystery.

In contrast, the second had to have died at least two centuries ago. A black cloak was all he wore with a scythe mounted on his back. And Vlad could faintly make out a skull in the shadows of his torn hood.

The older turns to the child with a huff as he gestures to the halfa sporadically. "Look what you've done. You woke him up."

The younger skeletal-being rolls his eyes and commences swinging his chain. "Relax. I've got this. Just let me do my thing and shut up."

The kid doesn't hesitate as he tosses the end of the chain at Vlad. Obviously, though, the kid has never dealt with another ghost before. Without even a flinch, Vlad allows the chain to fly through a gaping hole he created in his abdomen.

With a quirk of his brow, Vlad gives a hearty laugh. "Is that it? Child's play."

But the boy isn't finished yet. With one swift wink, he tugs on the chain and Vlad hardly has a chance to react as a table collides with his back. He's sent flying into the nearby wall, crushed by the table, and drops onto another table.

In his disoriented state, Vlad fails to go intangible as the chain wraps itself around his ankle.

The kid reassures his grip on the chain, licks his chapped, blue lips and uses all his might to tear Vlad from the mess he'd left him in. The kid manages to swing Vlad around the room with the strength no being, dead or alive, should have. Eventually, he releases his grip on the chain and allows Vlad to crash into the opposite wall, dizzy and disoriented. He crashes down on the table and destroys anything in his wake.

With a choked, harsh cough, Vlad pushes himself up and sets his sights on the laughing kid, steam practically coming from his ears. It's as if he saw this all as a game. "You don't know who you're dealing with, boy." He summons the ecto-energy again and smirks as it lights up the room.

The kid follows suit with a throbbing black glow. "Oh, I think I do."

They stare each other down for moments, waiting for the other to act. The atmosphere is so thick, you could cut it with a butter knife.

Of course, it's Vlad. He doesn't hesitate as he aims the first shot at the kid's shoulder. The kid narrowly misses it, earning a slight tear through the material of his hoodie for his troubles. With an annoyed click of his tongue, the kid acts next.

He misses.

The blast was strong, though. It made quite the crater where Vlad's head would have been had he not ducked out of the way just in time.

With a pant, Vlad turns to the kid. "That… that was impressive."

The kid smirks, his hand already glowing as he prepares another attack. "Thanks," he nods and holds out his illuminated hand. The attack is quick and swift, and had Vlad not phased through the wall, he would have died instantly.

With a click of his teeth, the child lowers his hand. "I hate that trick." He waves off his searing hand and approaches his fallen chain. He grabs it in one hand and wraps it around his palm like a BandAid to a wound. "It's like a cheat code in life."

"Your attacks are hasty and aggressive."

"What do you know!?" The boy snaps. "You're not helping!"

The cloaked figure doesn't react to the boy's threatening tone. Instead, he sets his hand on the wall. "Follow my lead." A crack begins to form around his hand. It scales up the wall and stops in the left corner of the room.

The child watches in fascination. He snaps out of his reverie moments later as the crack settles and follows his example. He sets his palm on the wall and a more rugged, catastrophic crack begins to tear through the wall and ceiling and joins onto his master's.

"Whoa. Just… whoa."

The master hums in approval. "Well done. This trick is used to locate invisible ghosts. It's not the most accurate or the most subtle, but it works. Now watch."

The master takes his hand back and builds up a small ball of energy at his fingertips. Once he's certain he has the appropriate amount for the task at hand, he gently presses his fingers to the base of the crack.

The crack glows and throbs gently with a ruby underline. The apprentice hums and turns his gaze to his own crack. He allows his hand to glow black.

"Vladimir Masters," the master calls into the seemingly empty room. But to all those present, they knew better. They knew there were more than two souls present in that room, "I am Reaper. You survived my initial attack, and I have returned to take the soul I failed to reap. You have been charged with unauthorised survival. The punishment?"

A shadowy ball of energy settles at the apprentice's fingertips.

"Death."

He presses his fingers to the crack.

And Vlad has only seconds to escape before his spirit is torn in two, as the black mingles with the red to create chaos.


	2. Chapter 2

_NAME: Vladimir Masters  
ALIAS: Vlad Plasmius  
RESIDENCE: Amity Park, United States of America  
SPECIES: Halfa  
CAUSE OF DEATH: Infection  
CORE TYPE: Fire_

" _Existing is easy. Dying is even easier. But living? That's a toughie."_

 _A pair of swirling ocean-forest eyes snap open. They look around frantically, searching for something that wasn't there. An escape, perhaps._

 _All he saw was darkness, though. Then his eyes adjusted slowly to a single candlelight. They slowly, cautiously roam upwards and rest on the wicked grin of a boy. The boy's cherry eyes roam across the floor as he continues to approach him. He tries to move, but finds he cannot. He is paralysed. By fear, he cannot say. All he knows is that he can't look away._

 _His sight adjusts to the darkness, and he somehow manages to take in the whole sight of the boy before him. He was clad in black, but that could be from the shadows. His red hair was brushed to one side, the left side shaved._ _But it wasn't the fiery, devilish hair that caught his attention. No. It was the skull-like design on the boy's face._

" _Death comes for all," the boy chirps, cheerily kicking at a pool of blood like a puddle in the rain, "so you have to make memories to look back on, right? Why waste a life? Who forgets to live? Who forgets a name?"_

 _As his vision continues to adjust, he finds himself gagging at the sight. Fallen bodies, their crimson tainting the ground and overwhelming his senses. He tries to close his eyes, he tries to look away, but he can't seem to tear away from the massacre. Who could have done this?_

 _Well, he already knows the answer to that question._

 _He specifically notices two bodies - the ones that lay by his feet. A girl with curly purple hair, her indigo eyes wide with fear. Pure white froth foams from her mouth and nose. A boy with an ink black undercut and burn marks crawling up his neck, his golden eyes dead and yet filled with hate and bitterness, as if he just died out of spite._

" _We make names for ourselves because we fear the human nature of forgetting. Humans fear being forgotten. But everyone forgets at some point. Everyone dies at some point. But what of the halfa?"_

 _His eyes return to the skeletal boy as he comes to a stop before him. It is then that he notices the scythe being swung in his hands dangerously, dripping wet with the red._

 _A malicious grin splits across the redhead's face. "Evading death? Avoiding the Reaper? Well, there're punishments for that, of course," the redhead chuckles. Cherry stares deep into blue-green. "You've made quite the name for yourself, Danny. Tell me, is it Phantom or Fenton?"_

 _The redhead raises the scythe above his head, sparking with electricity._

" _I am Spector. And I'm coming for ya', Phantom."_

 _And he strikes._

 _KNOCK KNOCK!_

Danny wakes up screaming none too manly. As he feels himself breathe and cold escape his mouth, he realises he is alive. He's in his room. And there's no blood. _There are no bodies._

With a relieved sigh, Danny turns to his alarm. 03:24am.

Geez. Who's even awake at three in the morning, let alone walking around in the dead of the night?

Sliding out of the soft comforts of his bed, he notices one important thing. He'd transformed in his sleep. And boy, wouldn't that have been a disaster had his parents walked in?

 _KNOCK KNOW!_

"Geez…!"

X X X

"Alright, I'm coming! Oh, wait." He'd almost forgotten. With less stupor than usual, his appearance was transformed by two pure white rings. Gone was the snow white hair, the green eyes and the black-and-white jumpsuit. In the hero's place stood the boy, Danny Fenton, decked out in his boxers.

He hadn't even realised he'd transformed in his sleep.

Once satisfied with his look, Danny puts on a polite smile for someone who was forced awake at ass-o'clock and swings open the door. "Hell-oh no…."

Vlad stood on his doormat, trembling. Out of fear or from the cold, Danny couldn't say. All he knew was that he had a strong desire to introduce the door to the man's nose.

"Vlad. I hate to break it to you, but my parents are asleep. It's just me. Which means I won't hesitate tearing you a new one."

Vlad, though, doesn't respond. None-too-elegantly, he shuffles his way past Danny and over to the couch. "Uh," Danny shuts the door behind him, "you alright there, Fruitloops?"

The fruitloop in question was far from "alright". With his right knee bouncing, his hands clamped, and shirt soaked in sweat, he was the very image of paranoia. "I – yes – uh… no, Daniel, I am not. I don't know how long I have to warn you."

"What? You look like you haven't gotten any sleep."

"Because I didn't! I've spent all night avoiding… him."

"Him? Dude, you're not making any sense. Who's 'he'?"

"Just put up the ghost shield and watch."

Vlad pounces onto the couch. Okay, now Danny's curious. With much less vigour, he walks over and joins the middle-aged halfa on the cushions to his left. "Keep your head down and avoid eye contact," Vlad whispers, pressing a hand to Danny's unruly black locks. Danny swats the hand away with an annoyed huff. "He smells fear, I'm sure."

"Is it the Fright Knight? If it is, I'll just kick his butt again," Danny announces as he goes ghost. Vlad follows suit but with less of a light show. "No, it's not the Fright Knight. Don't you think we'd be able to tell if it were? It's something much worse."

Danny pauses to consider the facts. There wasn't a lot that was much worse than the Fright Knight. Unless… "Pariah Dark? I thought I trapped him in his sarcophagus."

"No, it's not Pariah Dark."

"Then who?"

Vlad doesn't have the chance to answer. The thunderous boom from outside cuts off any response he might have had.

A large crater has indented itself in the road, but that wasn't the strangest sight. That had to be the hooded teen standing in the centre. From where he sits a comfortable twenty-something feet away, Danny can see the slightest hint of a smirk.

"Oh," he manages to whimper, the room dropping in temperature as fear welcomes him in its' cold, apathetic arms, "him."

"Oh, Masters!" The stranger sings as he struts his way from the crater, as though crossing a red carpet. "You should come out to play! It's a lovely day…" The stranger raises the scythe slung across his back and slams the tip of the blade into the cement.

A large crack forms in the ground and splits the road down the middle. Unkempt red peaks out from under his hood.

"To die!"

"No way…"

The crack tears its way to Fentonworks, when it stops. Danny doesn't know if it was luck or the ghost shield, but either way he's thankful. The stranger, of course, is far from amused. "What the…?"

"You recognise him?" Vlad asks, his shoulders tense as the stranger stomps his way up to the shield.

Danny, though, is frozen. His posture ramrod straight and eyes glued on the man of his nightmares. He can barely ease the muscles in his jaw to force out a response. Instead, all he can do is hum an affirmative.

That's enough for Vlad. He returns to the sight as the familiar stranger approaches the shield.

Using the end of his scythe, he jabs at the green. The end swims through the ectoplasm, but he's unconvinced. He reaches a hand up and presses it to the shield.

Only to pull back moments later at the searing pain. "Ouch," he pouts, shaking off the pain. With a determined scowl after tending to his wounds, he decides full strength would be the best thing to use. Obviously. And so, using his shoulder, he rams into the shield.

Spector's image dissipates moments later.

X X X

"Clockwork!"

When you're the god of time, you learn to predict and anticipate unwarranted intrusions.

"Nocturne?" But Nocturne will never fail to swoop by his sights undetected. "Since when do you announce yourself before coming in?" Clockwork gestures to the bench he'd been residing on moments prior, a more important question on his mind. "How did you get past the Observants?"

Nocturne hops past Clockwork to the bench, giving way to his chicken-like accomplice. "I put them to sleep. Duh."

"Right, ask a silly question," Clockwork rolls his eyes, before turning to the other. "Hello, Undergrowth."

Undergrowth in response gives Clockwork a curt nod before joining Nocturne on the bench, his ginormous size taking up all the available space. Right. Clockwork will stand, then. He's not sitting on Undergrowth's lap again.

"So what brought you two here to me?"

"Come on, Clock," Nocturne bites, fidgeting in his seat anxiously while Undergrowth watches the room uneasily, as though on the lookout for an attack. "Can't two gods drop by and say 'hi' to an old friend?"

"We're friends?"

"I'm hurt," Nocturne follows up with a sigh and drops his head. "But you're right to be doubtful. We can't have been the only ones noticing some odd goings-ons in our apprentices' lives, right?"

Clockwork hesitates. That's all Nocturne needs as an affirmative. "I thought so. Liang's been getting weird dreams. I think they might be prophetic. I've had to investigate into them, but so far I've got nothing."

Undergrowth hums in agreement. "My Kelly is in a similar state. Her flowers have been dying."

"You do realise she's probably just a terrible gardener, right?" Nocturne scoffs, and Undergrowth all but takes the jibe at his apprentice appropriately. Standing to his full, dominating size, Undergrowth roars with rage. "You dare to disrespect the apprentice of Undergrowth!?"

Nocturne, undeterred by the intimidation tactic, smirks smugly. "Oh, I dare."

Clockwork has to interfere before Undergrowth can swat Nocturne's existence out of time itself. He refuses to rearrange the timeline again just to bring back one significant annoyance. And a powerful one at that. "Sit down, Undergrowth. Nocturne, apologise. I've wiped gods out of time before, and I'll do it again." And that was a promise.

Undergrowth drops back down on the bench. With a huff and a roll of his eyes, Nocturne spits out his apology. "Sorry, Undergrowth," he whines, "I know how defensive you are of your apprentices, and I was unreasonable. Happy, Clock?"

"I'm never happy. Now tell me about the dreams."

"Hmm. Well, there's not much to say. It's just… darkness. And death. And some weird stuff, but it's not important."

Clockwork's eyes downcast to the floor tiles. "Reaper."

"Reaper," Nocturne nods in agreement.

"But why now? Why them?" Undergrowth asks the questions they were all thinking. His eyes landed on a window peering in on a banshee grinning from the top of a building, embracing the cheers of her people. His eyes droop sadly.

"I think we already know the answer to that question," Clockwork sighs. The looks in both his acquaintances eyes tell him so. "Gather the apprentices. They're going to need as much help as they can get."

 ** _Not too sure about the next few chapters, so the next update might take longer._**


End file.
